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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26875480">Stand by me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightning070/pseuds/_Lightning_'>_Lightning_ (Lightning070)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Last of Us (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Astronauts, Bonfires, Ellie &amp; Joel (The Last of Us) Bonding, Ellie (The Last of Us) Needs a Hug, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Joel&amp;Ellie quality time, Missing Scene, Music, No pun intended, Outer Space, POV Ellie (The Last of Us), Set Post-The Last of Us, Set Pre-The Last of Us Part II, Softie Joel (The Last of Us), THEY DESERVE IT</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:53:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26875480</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightning070/pseuds/_Lightning_</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellie often thinks about Apollo 11. She can't clearly imagine what it'd be like going into outer space. Taking off, feeling weightless. But she believes it'd be very similar to those mornings when she startles awake with the impression of falling. Only, upwards, towards the stars and the moon.</p><p>[Ellie PoV // post-TLOU // pre-TLOU2 // Joel &amp; Ellie // Introspective // Melancholic // Fluff]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ellie &amp; Joel (The Last of Us), Ellie/Riley (The Last of Us), Joel/Tess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stand by me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            A translation of

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/697441">Vivere la vita</a> by _Lightning_.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi, folks!<br/>This story is a direct translation from the Italian one, so forgive any mistakes/imperfections: I did my best but it's been a long time since my last reverse translation and I didn't feel like rewriting it from scrap in English as I usually do :')</p><p>I hope you enjoy it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>"The world is a Noah's Ark<br/>
Hopelessly sailing, adrift<br/>
But if you're here with me<br/>
The world isn't here<br/>
There's a summer galaxy"</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>SUMMER</strong>
</p><p> </p><p><strong>E</strong>llie often thinks about Apollo 11. She can't clearly imagine what it'd be like going into outer space. Taking off, feeling weightless. But she believes it'd be very similar to those mornings when she startles awake with the impression of falling. Only, upwards, towards the stars and the moon.</p><p>She also often thinks about Apollo 1. And it is much easier for her to imagine everything, with a clarity dictated by experience. The fire, the screams, the liquefied astronaut suits welded to their seats along with the bodies they housed. She hardly needs to rake through her imagination to piece the scene together: she just has to mix some scraps of memories, with the addition of a rocket that never took off and burned on the spot.</p><p>It pisses her off, all of this. Back in military college, when she stayed up late at night reading under the blankets, she always skipped the chapter about failed lunar missions. It used to upset and sadden her more than it should have, in a damn childish way that annoyed her even more. She had ended up tearing up those pages entirely.</p><p>Then Riley had turned them into <em>origami</em> that were supposed to look like cranes, but their wings were too crooked and asymmetrical to fly. She didn't care, at least until the day of the bite.</p><p><em>Houston, we had a problem</em>.</p><p>Fuck it. She had thrown them all out of the window into the eternally rainy Boston sky and left them to melt in the muddy puddles.</p><p>Now, under this endless blanket of stars spreading out beyond the sharp tops of the trees, she thinks neither of Apollo missions, nor of space, nor of moon landings, nor of <em>origami</em> that never took flight. Her brain is a weirdo. Sometimes she thinks it's because of that fucking Cordyceps infecting it. Maybe that's why she has such a good memory. She should be patented. Ellie “Cordy” Williams, the new frontier of human progress. The salvation of humanity. <em>Pfft</em>, bullshit.</p><p><em>B</em><em>ullshit</em>.</p><p>She lets out a sigh in the summer air.</p><p>And then she lets her brain - or perhaps the fungus - have it its way and choose the most disparate thoughts. She thinks about dinosaurs and the meteor that came at breakneck speed from those very stars to extinguish them. And about the Native Americans, who watched those same stars, where their myths took place before the Europeans came to steal their freedom. And about those stars that, until twenty years ago, were invisible, suffocated by too many human lights. She frowns and thinks there is a backlit, thin dark circle drawn between those events and linking them together. A circle of which she is somehow a part of. In a trivial way, like anyone else. She can't break it. She never could.</p><p>She stares at the darkness between the stars so hard that it begins to swarm with other dots created by her own eyes.</p><p>She thinks that, in the end, under the gaze of so many stars, they all are a little more alone than they think. And that on this clear evening, with the fire crackling in her ears and the stream spraying droplets of icy water, it would be fine to have a guitar to feel less alone. She has only seen bonfires on the beach in the movies, but she knows in her guts that it would be nice to hear some chords vibrating in the air accompanying a couple of voices.</p><p>"Joel?" she calls, with her eyes half-closed, shielding the orange sparks mixing with the white dots of the stars. She likes that effect, but her stomach pulls. They look like fireflies.</p><p>"Mh?"</p><p>Joel hasn't looked up from the fish he's gutting and scaling, but he's listening to her. There's the sound of a sharp stick piercing the flesh, and then a thud that travels through the sandy soil til the back of her neck when it's driven into the sand over the fire.</p><p>Ellie remains silent. She's not sure if Joel remembers the promise about teaching her to play the guitar. Or about singing something for her, or about teaching her to swim. They all seem eclipsed by that other promise - an oath - hovering above them like a ghost. Something broke and welded in the very instant that oath was sworn. She can't say what, exactly, but it itches and tugs at her heart when she thinks about it.</p><p>"Ellie?"</p><p>She blinks awake and shrugs, making the gravel creak under the sheet. She snorts softly, crossing her fingers on his stomach. "Nothing. It slipped my mind. "</p><p>Joel stirs the embers, the shadow of his hands slipping on the pebbles and rocks of the shore. An owl softly hoots in the distance. One of the horses clops a hoof on the ground and shakes its head in a jingle of harness. The crickets chirp in a hiccuping concert. The night is alive, but the sound of stillness is draped around it. And despite the thousands of thoughts that swirl in her head, she also feels silence. There was a song about that "sound of silence", but she can't recall itr. It's just an indistinct buzz in the back of her head, softly hummed by Riley's lips.</p><p>She gazes at the stars, or maybe the stars gaze at her.</p><p>"And what's on your mind?" Joel asks, still busy preparing their dinner.</p><p>"Aliens," she snorts, without looking at him and without thinking. "Moon landings."</p><p>"Uh-huh. Anything else?"</p><p>She glimpses an ironic note in his voice, and she entertains it.</p><p>“Dinosaurs. And Indians."</p><p>"You sure have a lotta thoughts. Indians?" he then asks, as if, in their normality, <em>they</em> were the most unexpected thing, instead of aliens or dinosaurs.</p><p>“Yeah, Indians. Y'know ... maybe they used to live here, in this same spot. They would camp by the river, with a bonfire like ours, maybe <em>right</em> there,” she says, pointing at the flames dancing in their small circle of boulders.</p><p>Joel impales the second fish above them. The smell of cooked meat begins to spread in their small camp, and Ellie's stomach rumbles, after all those hours of hiking uphill on deer trails.</p><p>"Maybe dinosaurs used to as well," Joel then replies, standing up with a grunt to go and rinse his hands in the stream.</p><p>"You mean they had a bonfire? The dinosaurs?" Ellie feigns puzzlement. “Did I miss something in my history lessons? Did the military keep the truth from me? "</p><p>Joel puffs out an exasperated snort, but Ellie knows it's his way of laughing without really doing it.</p><p>"Yeah, right. Dinosaur bonfires. Museums are full of them."</p><p>“I've never been to a museum, so I'll have to take your word for it. Can I trust you?"</p><p>Joel sits down again by the fire and answers with one of those cryptic silences of someone not used to reiterate the obvious. Then, unexpectedly, he points his finger at her with a hint of a smile:</p><p>“You've actually been there. In a museum, I mean. Back in Boston..."</p><p>The sentence snaps like a thin thread that's been cut off, even though it began playfully. Joel's eyes darken, and Tess is suddenly too close: he still doesn't seem able to gauge the right distances, and gets burned when he steps too close to her. Ellie is quick to restore them, without the bat of an eye:</p><p>“That time doesn't really count. I mean, I didn't even enjoy the tour. And then there were no dinosaurs in there: no fossils, no cool scientific stuff. Just old clothes, rusty swords, and scraps of paper. And... a cannon. <em>Worst</em> museum in history,” she adds, deliberately playing with words. Joel makes one of those dry side puffs of his that make him look older, but his gaze is now clearer.</p><p>"We'll see to it," he mutters, grabbing one of the branches above the fire and observing the now-roasted fish at the end. "Dinner," he announces, poking her with the free end to make her get up.</p><p>"Well then, let's see how your recipe will score this time."</p><p>“I'm <em>seriously</em> regretting telling you about MasterChef,” Joel grumbles, shaking his head.</p><p>Ellie chuckles lightly and plunges straight into her portion. They aren't particularly talkative at the table, and that's just fine with her. Jackson doesn't lack food, but she still finds it hard to get out of the "last meal" mentality. It seems to her that Joel has the same attitude. So they eat in silence, enjoying that time cut out from a life she never lived, but which she would have liked to live. Filled with lunar missions and trips to museums and going to the movies and cooking broadcasts and a thousand other things she knows the name of, but which are linked to concepts very different from the ones they were meant to describe. But those carbon copies don't look that bad to her eyes after all. And she can't <em>really</em> miss something she has never experienced.</p><p>"Mh," she says then, swallowing her last bite and putting on an intent expression. "Considering the recipe as a whole, I would say that this dish deserves ..." she stretches the pause out, waving an index finger in midair, "... six and a half out of ten. <em>I</em> could've done better. "</p><p>"Oh, good," Joel comments, listlessly raising his eyebrows. "You can start helping out in the kitchen then."</p><p>"<em>Stsh</em> – yeah, you wish."</p><p>At that reply, Joel stops dead and raises his head somewhat abruptly, giving her a look clouded with surprise. Ellie blinks, taken aback, and leans toward her rifle in an automatic reaction, expecting hungry shadows about to emerge from the bushes. But the forest is calm, if not for the rustling of the leaves. Joel doesn't even notice her tension - he seems distracted. He clears his hoarse throat and props his hands behind him against the smooth pebbles, chin resting on his chest. He takes a breath.</p><p>"You..." he starts off, but immediately stops and throws the twig and fishbone into the fire. Ellie instinctively understands that he is about to say something close to his heart, but avoids staring at him. She doesn't want to scare him away from what he wants to say. Joel runs a thumb on the broken face of his watch, and Ellie follows that gesture. Something <em>very</em> close to his heart.</p><p>"You were right," he says then, without looking at her. He stares at the stream and the clear waves that flow almost invisibly on the polished stones.</p><p>Any other day, Ellie would have replied, sarcastically, <em>should I make a note of this event?</em> or something along those lines. But this time she keeps quiet. She follows his gaze and it almost looks like their thoughts are flowing downstream along with the crystal clear water.</p><p>"When?" she asks tentatively, seeing that Joel seems to be fighting with his own words.</p><p>“That one time, on the ranch nearby. When you ran away."</p><p>Ellie raises her head and meets his gaze, now focused on her. He almost embraces her with his eyes. For just a moment, then they flee back to the ground, to the fire, to Joel's own shadow. He sighs again, rubs the watch again. She can't fathom what he is going to say, but it is clear that it weighs on him, in his chest. The oath comes back to her and she feels a hollow in her heart, but she knows they aren't talking about that. Truths don't need to be talked about. You do that with lies and things left unspoken. Joel has so many of those.</p><p>"You're not… <em>her</em>," he finally murmurs, raising his clouded, almost black irises into the darkness. "It's <em>you</em>. And only you. That's all."</p><p>He remains silent for a long time and looks down at the cracks in the watch. Perhaps he smiles, or holds back his grief, but his beard hides the folds of his mouth, and the shadows hide his eyes. The fear of wrong words stains the air, but Ellie can't find even a single one. Joel was speaking to her, but maybe also to himself. Maybe to Sarah, too. A way to both divide and reconcile two different realities that find themselves coexisting and compensating each other - and it hurts, and it mends. That's just another way to fight and live another day. You find something to live for.</p><p>"I just wanted you to know," he says, and his voice is a barely audible whisper.</p><p>Ellie nods and feels something in her chest. She thinks back to the giraffes, like a daydream. She remembers how they moved forward amidst the destruction of the apocalypse. Slender, elegant. Even then when she saw them, that same, indecipherable, grip grasped her. Like a happy sadness. Or a sad joy. It's beautiful though. It fills her lungs - she breathes, and she lives another day.</p><p>"I know," she replies then, in the softest voice she can muster. She doesn't want those words to sound conceited. Or arrogant. She wants to sound them like the truth they should be.</p><p>Joel nods in return and grips his watch. "Okay." He straightens his shoulders and seems to feel lighter. <em>Lightness</em>. That's what that feeling is. Maybe that's what it feels like to take off for a space mission. Maybe even the astronauts have eyes as shiny as theirs before they take off and leave their homes. Or when they return.</p><p>Ellie hugs her knees and rests her chin upon them. She smiles.</p><p>"Well, then?" she bursts out after a while, and Joel turns to stare at her with still-wet eyes, taken aback.</p><p>"Well, then <em>what</em>?" he asks, confused.</p><p>"What about that song? A promise is a promise, right?” she reminds him, shuffling her feet impatiently on the gravel.</p><p>Joel is dumbfounded for a moment, then snorts, again, and snaps away with his eyes.</p><p>"With <em>which</em> guitar?"</p><p>"I said <em>singing</em>, not <em>playing</em>. Didn't you want to become a singer when you were younger? And you owe me this one."</p><p>"Oh, no. No, no, no, ”he replies, waving a hasty hand in front of him. "I wouldn't ... I'd attract all the infected within ten kilometers, it's not ..."</p><p>"Joel. We are in a <em>safe</em> area. Clean. Fenced. No signs of infected within ten kilometers. Jackson is right around the corner. And you don't have to sing loud! "</p><p>"Ellie ..."</p><p>"Okay okay!" she gives up, shrugging. "So, I have an alternative to lighten up the evening... <em>why is a calendar always sad?</em>" she begins, in a shrill voice, and sees the desperation in Joel's eyes. «…<em>because his days are numbered!</em> And listen to this other one, this one <em>gold</em> - "</p><p>"Okay, that's enough, you won," he finally relents, sighing deeply. "C'mon, kiddo. What am I supposed to sing?"</p><p>Ellie puts on a smug expression: the threat of a pun contest always works. She bites his lip to hold back a smile.</p><p>“Well, something like… <em>oh!</em> I know! Man, how did that song go? " she snaps his fingers several times, trying to recall it. "It should be from your time, wait ..."</p><p>"From my <em>time?</em>"</p><p>Ellie ignores him and taps a syncopated rhythm with her palms on her knees, snapping her tongue in time as the melody rings into her ears, far away, distorted by her shabby walkman:</p><p>"<em>When the night ... has come ... and the land is dark ...</em>" she stops mid-verse, aware of being out of tune, and gestures impatiently. “Oh, shit, that one, anyway! You know it, don't you? "</p><p>Joel bursts out laughing, and it's so unexpected that Ellie forgets to shut her mouth, staring at him in wonder as one would stare at an unusual natural phenomenon.</p><p>"It's a couple of decades <em>before</em> my 'time'," he shrugs, like an apology, rubbing his beard and recomposing himself.</p><p>Ellie twists her mouth, disappointed, but a smile shines in her eyes nonetheless.</p><p>"Oh, so you don't..."</p><p>"<em>And the moon ... is the only light we’ll see ...</em>" Joel picks up right where she left, in what sounds more like a hoarse and musical rumbling than a full-voice song. It mingles with the gurgling stream and the chirping crickets, and Ellie falls silent, listening. "<em>No, I won't... be afraid...</em>"</p><p>"<em>Oh, I won't ... be afraid ...</em>" Ellie replies softly, and Joel encourages her with a nod of his chin.</p><p>"<em>Just as long ... as you stand, stand by me,</em>" they trail off together, with a complicit pause.</p><p>And then they go on. A little out of time, a little out of tune, with their voices rising, lowering, intersecting, and completing each other, going through different paths and soaring to a meeting point, finally fading into the buzz of the night.</p><p>It's a bit like a take off, Ellie thinks, reflecting Joel's smile full of unspoken words. Together, they turn their eyes to the stars, side by side.</p><p>It's a bit like life.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"We go, we go</em><br/>
<em>But where do we go</em><br/>
<em>Who knows, who knows</em><br/>
<em>I'm not scared anymore</em><br/>
<em>And this one life of mine</em><br/>
<em>Is all I really got</em><br/>
<em>The shorter it will be</em><br/>
<em>And the louder I will sing"</em>
</p><p>-Noah's Ark - Mannarino-</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The song "Arca di Noè" from Mannarino, quoted and translated at the end, inspired most of the story. Give it a chance even if you don't know Italian: it's nice and catchy :)</p><p>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g8FS2rtBOYU</p></blockquote></div></div>
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